No, Madonna, One is NOT a Lonely Number

I have begun a new job, and breakfast is an issue.

I need to clarify firstly that breakfast, for me, needs to be had in total silence, and preferably alone, enhancing the silence aspect.  It is the start of the day, and I need to ease into it.  Quietly.  This ambience is only altered on the weekends, when I sit with my little bowl of fruit nuts and yoghurt in front of the telly, to watch cake making on a cookery show.  Again though, I do not omit any words, as I like it to be QUIET.

In my last job they had a large canteen where I could come into work early, sit at the corner table with my back to the rest of the slaves, and read and not say anything.

 The people in my new job are very friendly.  And they have a tiny canteen with four tiny tables.  In the morning, when I come in, they sit together and talk to each other and occasionally talk to me (they’ve since learned not to keep this up).  However, even though I am at my table alone, and eight of them are at the next table laughing and being normal, I am unhappy.


I have taken to eating in the carpark, which is utterly fabulous.  I park the car, jump into the back seat for a good old stretch and pop a green tea bag into my travel mug which is already full of expectant hot water, brew the tea, then pull out my book and plastic bowl of breakfast, take my little spoon out of its plastic sandwich bag and munch away, in complete solitude and silence.

Yes people can see me, but I don’t care.  The beauty of being one month away from turning 39 is that you are just too old to care what people think.  Anybody walking by and staring gets a good stare back, and when they jump I know I’ve won.

Until today.

The blonde TWAT.  She keeps parking about two spaces away from me – I get there first then IT arrives – who takes as long to do her makeup in her carspace as I do to eat, drink green tea and read my book.  Seriously, at LEAST twenty minutes.  I try not to look but I throw the odd filthy grimace at her, not that she can see as she is ENGROSSED in her rear view mirror and always, ALWAYS applying more foundation.  Can you imagine how much slop is on your face if you just keep adding to it for twenty whole minutes?

 This would all be fine except to do this, she has to keep her engine running (?) and her radio blaring at full blast.  If you’ve parked your car, turn the engine off.  I cannot stress this enough.  She is not running air-con, or heating (this being the Irish summer, there is little need for both, as it is warm enough to not be too hot, and not cold enough to require rugging up or additional heating.  In otherwords – just right).  There is no NEED to keep spitting out toxins into our fragile environment.  Selfish, blonde twat!

I need not go into the rubbish being spewed from her radio whilst all of this is going on.  Suffice it to say that the ‘’presenters’’ are of the loud, crude and non-funny variety.

Then there was today.  I parked in my space, being half asleep, forgetting that twat would soon be here.  I jumped into the back and began the brewing.  I hear a roaring engine and a DJ being really, really unfunny (I knew this because his alleged sidekick was guffawing really loudly in response to his non-funny observation on modern life type non-comedy).

It reversed into its spot, meaning me in the back seat and her in the front were right beside each other.  It also can’t reverse in a straight line so when parked, there is very little space between us.  And I am a firm believer in the Personal Territorial Bubble.

This was awful, except literally ten seconds later, an older, more annoying blonde twat pulled up on my opposite side, in her even louder red sports car, with a DIFFERENT horrible radio station on – an eavesdropping ASSAULT!!!  Cue rear view mirror, pile of foundation time and I felt trapped in an idiot sandwich made of my pain and their horror.  And I still had to do a full day’s work!!!

I am now considering parking at the far end of the park, further to walk yes but quiet, silent and twat-free.  I should not have to make these decisions so early in the day.

3 thoughts on “No, Madonna, One is NOT a Lonely Number

    • Hello Ruralspaceman, oh goodness no. I am still dealing with the odd sub-human in my new role albeit in a much less exposed environment. This will not hinder my observations of mad people, as for some reason I appear to be surrounded. I hope this will keep you happy? If not, I’ve kept some choice reminders of my last role, specially for you. I’ve just been too lazy to blog about them.

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